


In the mix of it all, it brought us all together

by leocantus



Series: red light fix [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leocantus/pseuds/leocantus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days Sam wishes his mama had warned him about those white boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the mix of it all, it brought us all together

**Author's Note:**

> I gave this a brief read over but it's completely un-beta'd (mostly because it's been like a month and I'm sick of looking at this now) so apologies in advance.

Steve nudges his shoulder, carefully, clearly not wanting to accidentally tip him over the banister. "So. Avenging is my world, huh?"

Sam laughs and nudges him back. "And I stand by it; you're all crazy. Now, I just kinda figure that you could do with someone with their feet on the ground."

Steve smiles at the pun, as unintentional as it was, but instead says, "Seriously, Sam, you can still walk away. You don't have to do this." They crest the top of the stairs, and Steve turns down one of the millions of hallways in this building, heading towards the living quarters.

Sam's smile dims but steadies, becomes softer, more sure. He grabs Steve's arm, and Steve stops and turns immediately, as though Sam actually has the strength to keep him in place. "Look. In another life, I might have seen what had happened down in DC and jumped in to help, but maybe when it was all said and done I'd have happily stepped back and gone back to my civilian life." Steve looks resigned at that, shoulders squaring as though preparing himself for a blow, so Sam hurries on. "But that's not the way it went down. Instead I got some asshole giving me shit on my morning run, and he turned out to be the greatest friend a guy could ask for."

"So," Sam says, tone picking up, because this kind of talk is way too serious for the kind of celebration that's just gone on, and he lets go of Steve's arm so they can continue walking. The space between them has shrunk to nothing, and their shoulders brush together as they make their way down the hallway. "If this asshole decides to go running off into danger, I guess I'm gonna run after him. If only to help keep his fool self alive."

Steve ducks his head with that wondering little smile he gets, the same one he had when Sam said he'd follow him into battle the first time, and Sam can practically read the _but I'm just a kid from Brooklyn_ written in his face. But instead he just says "Thanks," once, quietly, and Sam feels it settle over him, the weight of his own words like an unbreakable vow. Steve is counting on him, so Sam will deliver.

"Besides," Sam continues, "I've got family here in New York that I've been pretty bad about travelling out to visit, and there's a VA office out here that I can help out at. You know, between saving the world and all." He clasps a hand on Steve's shoulder, and it lingers, like everything else between them, as he says, "The change could be a good thing, man. So stop beating yourself up over it."

Steve laughs, hands raised as though in surrender, and says, "Alright, alright, I get it. I'll stop," like they hadn't had some variation of this conversation in the fraught stretch of time after DC where they were frantically trying to find Barnes before anyone else did, like Steve doesn't have some inability to believe that people might willingly want to be by his side. Sam shakes his head, smiling, sets a mental reminder to revisit this conversation at a later date, and decides to let it go for now.

"You do realise though," Steve says as they finally reach the door to Sam's new accommodations, and Sam can tell from the tone of voice that Steve stirring shit again like the asshole he is. "That this means you've got someone else giving you orders now."

Sam raises an eyebrow, leaning against his door, arms folded. "Oh, is that how it is?"

Steve's outright grinning now. "That's how it is."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were enjoying this too much."

"Come on, Sam, you know me. I'm enjoying this just the right amount." 

Sam's shaking his head because Steve looks far too pleased with himself, but he's laughing all the same. "Is this the part where I call you 'sir'?" He expects Steve to send it back, nice and easy, the give and take the same as always when it comes to their teasing, except -- and Sam could believe it was just the lighting in the hallway, except Steve's ducking his head in a way that spells embarrassment this time -- Steve flushes, a slow spread of pink across his face and right up to his ears, face turned away as though he's got secrets to hide.

"Um," Steve says eloquently, and Sam can't ever be accused of being slow on the uptake but it looks like he wasn't kidding when he said he was always a couple of steps behind Steve because it's only just hit him that--

Oh.

"It's like that, huh?" His voice sounds shaky to his own ears but he's got the sudden rush of feeling in his gut, fear and exhilaration, like when he'd strapped on his wings for the first time and took flight.

"Uh," Steve says this time, very much deer-in-the-headlights, and Sam can see it, the images flashing through his mind at light speed, the way things will play out, like a path unfolding in front of him. Steve's already pulling away in increments, first mentally as Sam watches the shutters go up in his eyes and then physically as he opens up a chasm of space between them so Sam opens his mouth and gropes for the first thing that comes to mind, not wanting to lose this moment.

"You gonna give me orders, sir?"

Steve's startled look darkens, turns greedy within seconds, and Sam has a second to let his lips curl up in a triumphant smirk before he's being pressed insistently into his door, Steve nudging his chin up to draw him into a slow kiss, a soft crush of lips that hooks Sam even more thoroughly than tight t-shirts and a kind heart did. Steve's got him bracketed between his two ridiculous arms, the only point of contact the maddening way he's moving his mouth over Sam's, so Sam feels like it's his duty to hook his fingers into the belt loops of Steve's jeans and close the gap between them.

He feels more than he hears Steve noise of pleasure, a rumble in his chest that Sam echoes, heat flashing through him in an instant, and it's only the way Steve fits against him that keeps him upright when Steve pulls back.

"You've been practising," he says when he gets his breath back, because he can't not, and is gratified by the way Steve scowls at him, a ridiculous expression that leaves him looking his age for once.

"You know, you shouldn't listen to everything Natasha says," Steve says, a little sourly, and Sam can't help himself when he says, "Is that an order, sir?" just to watch the way Steve's eyes sharpen on Sam, gaze hot like a physical caress, and it's no surprise when they end up kissing again, open mouthed and wet, and then little biting kisses as Steve finds his way across Sam's jaw and down his neck. 

"Fuck," he says, losing it a little, the soft lips and the sharp scrape of teeth chipping steadily away at his control. His hands, sitting innocently on at Steve's waist, slide down to cup his ass, to encourage a slow roll of hips into his own that results in a sharp nip to the skin under his jaw. Sam finds himself panting and swearing again, even as he tilts his head for Steve's mouth. "Fuck, Steve, get off my neck before I--"

Steve laughs. "Insubordinate," he says, lifting his head from what feels like an impressive bruise at the base of Sam's throat, and Sam groans a little and seeks out Steve's mouth for another kiss.

"Well," he says, some time later, "I surrender myself for disciplinary action, sir," and now it's Steve's turn to groan.

"Inside?" Steve murmurs into his skin, cheek rubbing slowly over the rough scrape of his beard in a way that's making _him_ shiver, and it takes him two tries before he can answer.

"Yes, sir."

\------

He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about them as a _them_ in any kind of way -- it's kind of hard not to think about it, and not just because of how ludicrously broad Steve's shoulders are -- because he'd known Steve, known him right down to his bones from the start, but it's been the very definition of Not The Right Time for them. Still, Sam's learned that there's a time and a place for everything, but Sam has also learned that sometimes you've got to make your own opportunities, and with the lives they're living they can't just wait for the stars to align before they decide to give them a go, because Sam is already carrying far too many regrets.

Steve's bold words only carry him so far, just through the doorway before he stalls, as though his mind has only just caught up with him, and Sam hides a smile, taking him by the hand to lead him past the threshold. Steve's probably got the greatest strategic mind of this century, but it's his own worst enemy when it comes to people he likes, like there's a switch that gets flipped that sends his thoughts into overdrive.

Sam takes pity and winds his fingers through Steve's hair, tugging lightly, and Steve falls into their next kiss almost gratefully, the slick push of his tongue a counterpoint to the rough sweep of his hands up Sam's back, rucking his t-shirt higher and higher until they're skin to skin, Steve's hands like a brand on his back.

They end up at the bed almost as an afterthought, far more interested in each other, the world shrunk down to just the two of them, and it's only when Sam sinks to the bed, knees folding where they meet the edge of it, and Steve follows, settling astride him that reality reasserts itself. It's now that Steve hesitates, looking up at him through his lashes like he's not sure of his place now that they're here, and Sam remembers with a start that Steve has never done this before. 

"Hey," he says, smile unbearably fond, running soothing hands along his side. There's no expectation in it, just a willingness to take whatever Steve wants to give, and it doesn't take any more than that before he can feel Steve relaxing in stages under his hands, enough to duck his head and ease their mouths together again. 

Steve's large hands cup his face and tilt his head upwards so he can get at Sam's mouth, thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks, and by now Sam's mouth feels wonderfully wet and bruised, tender, sensitive to every touch, and Sam could stay here for days if they'd let him, living off Steve's mouth like this. Sam's hands find their way underneath Steve's shirt, greedy for any touch of skin he can get, and Steve _shivers_ under his hands, and moan lost between their mouths, and, well, Sam is only human.

"How about we take this off, huh?" he says when they finally break apart, tugging lightly at Steve's t-shirt.

Steve's hands curl into his t-shirt, ready to pull it off, but then he stops, shooting Sam a grin that's a little boyish and a lot dirty. "You giving me orders now?"

And Sam laughs, leaning back on his hands, and says, "No, sir. Forgive my insubordination." And now it's his turn to look coy when he says, "What are your orders, sir?"

Steve bites his bottom lip like he wants to bite down on the words about to tumble out, but in the end he says, "Take off your shirt," in his field voice, his Captain America voice, and Sam hopes to god that this won't mean that he'll start getting hard in the middle of battle now because it pulls at him, hits him straight in his hind brain, and Sam finds himself topless in record time, staring Steve with wide eyes.

Steve slides off his own t shirt as though in reward for Sam's good behaviour, and god those shirts didn't do Steve any justice. It's almost obscene the way his flush stretches down across his chest, and Sam's gaze gets caught there, on the broadness of his shoulders, on the definition in his arms, on the faint trail of blond hair that drags Sam's gaze down the planes of Steve's abs to the top of his jeans and Sam hasn't _wanted_ so much in a very long time.

Steve bears him down into the bed, a seeming newfound confidence in the wake of Sam's obvious desire. They're quite practiced at kissing now, mouths slotting together again with familiarity, Steve propped up on his arms above Sam before he urges him closer with his hands splayed against his lower back. Steve is hot everywhere, muscles bunching and shifting under Sam's hands, but Sam doesn't think it's that that's got him so overheated. It could be the way Steve's mouth has found its way to his neck again, teeth unerringly gravitating to the spot beneath his jaw that makes him come undone a little, or the way they're grinding together now with every filthy roll of Steve's hips, but Sam's panting like he can't quite get enough air, head tipped back in encouragement. 

It feels like Steve's as hard as he is right now-- or certainly, feels like he wants it as much as Sam does, and Sam's hands fall on his ass, shifting Steve slightly so that one of his thighs falls between Steve's legs, to give him something to rub against. Steve swears quietly, a sharp, bitten off sound as he takes it, grinding down on Sam's thigh with a small groan of relief, and Sam can't wait to get his hands, his mouth, on him. Steve sounds so good in his ear and there are so many things Sam wants to show him, wants to do with him, he almost doesn't know where to start. Almost, because he knows the first step is to get Steve out of his pants.

Steve's hands find the waistband of his pants first, fingers making quick work of the fastenings there, and it's pure instinct that has Sam lifting his hips when Steve tugs. He toes off his shoes, and the rest of his clothes end up in a pile next to them, and then Sam lies back on the bed, goosebumps pimpling on his skin, and tugs Steve into place above him. 

"Fuck," Steve says, eyes greedily taking in the way Sam is laid out bare beneath him, mouth shaping the word with such exquisite care that it sounds almost filthy coming from him, and Sam would take the boost to his ego at any other time but he's just so desperate for Steve to touch him -- his chest, his thighs, his dick, it doesn't matter -- it's driving him to distraction and he ends up saying "If you want", his mouth running without his brain's input.

Steve drags his gaze back up to meet Sam's eyes, torturously slow, with eyes shocked wide, pupils blown, and Sam, whose hands are moving restlessly over his thighs because if he gets a hand on his dick it's game over, mentally revises his plans for the evening because he'll do everything he can to get Steve to make that expression again.

"You..." Steve trails off there, but then his hands drop to the waistband of his pants with another one of those boyish grins, and Sam is more than happy to lend a hand. He would have said that they were moving too fast for him to end up naked in bed with Steve not ten minutes after finding out that they _could_ be naked together, especially since this isn't a onetime deal for Sam -- he wants to be able to wake up to Steve every morning, wants them to be together every step of the way for as long as they can be. But when you take into account the fact how much they _know_ each other, heart to heart, then he supposes that the naked in bed aspect of the evening maybe isn't such a surprise after all.

Soon enough they're both naked and stretched out on the bed together, legs tangled together as they fall into another kiss, and another, and another. Every shift of their hips brings their dicks together, Sam's toes curling with the rush of potent pleasure, and honestly he'd be happy for it to go like this, just keep rubbing off against each other until they come, until they're messy with it, but there's so much he wants to show Steve. He shoves at Steve's shoulder instead, and Steve moves, bemused, as Sam rolls them over until he's on top, settled between Steve's thighs. 

He grins down at Steve, triumphant, leans down for the kiss Steve is more or less begging for, face tilted up, peering up at Sam through his lashes. "Think you'll like this next part," he says, voice warm, teasing, a little smug. He slides down Steve's body, out of Steve's arms that seem loathe to let him go.

"Sam, what--" Steve starts, arms still groping air, but that fades into a gasp as Sam parts Steve's thighs and holds them that way, fingers digging into hard muscle. He dips his head, and Steve lets out a breathless moan and shivers as Sam rubs his cheek against Steve's inner thigh, beard abrading the skin, letting his mouth follow behind to soothe the reddened skin. 

"Sam, please." Steve's hands land heavy on the back of Sam's head, just resting there despite how clearly he wants Sam's mouth elsewhere, and Sam buries his smile in Steve's hip. 

He can feel Steve's thighs trembling under his hands as his mouth brushes over his balls, up the length of his dick, and Steve makes this wounded sound, sharp, like the noise had been punched out of his, when Sam finally opens his mouth for Steve's dick, lets it slide it past his lips with a jerk of Steve's hips.

"Oh god," he hears Steve say faintly, and Sam would smile, pleased, if his mouth wasn't already full. He's been wanting to do this for the better part of a year, and he doesn't waste any time, focusing his attention on the head, tonguing the slit, then bobs his head a little, getting the shaft nice and slick so he can get his hand around the rest (and Sam's no size queen but he can tell that his jaw's gonna ache in the morning. He's looking forward to it).

He settles into a nice rhythm, jaw stretched wide, as Steve trembles and holds himself very still under him. Steve keeps making these hurt, aching sounds, every time Sam takes him in deeper, and Sam laps up the precome that's like a steady stream, slicking things up more than his mouth ever could. He never thought that Steve would get this _wet_ when he got turned on, and Sam's finding it unreasonably hot. He slides his mouth off for a second, still jacking his dick with his hand, and it doesn't stop, dripping onto his abs as Sam laps at the head, chasing the precome down the shaft with his tongue until he gets his mouth back on Steve's balls, and it's a full on sob that Steve lets out this time, hands that were gentle on the back of Sam's head now tugging insistently to get Sam where Steve wants him.

"Sam, Sam, please Sam, just suck-- f- _fuck_."

It's blazingly hot the way Steve holds him and feeds his dick back between Sam's lips, and he's not so still now beneath Sam, jerking his hips up into little shallow thrusts. All Sam has to do is drop his jaw, give Steve somewhere to put his dick, and soon enough Steve is coming, gasping and groaning as he fills Sam's mouth.

He's barely pulled his mouth off, wiping away the come that had spilled past his lips, when Steve tugs at his arms, pulls him up his body and into another kiss, almost frantic with it.

"Sam," he says, "Sam," as though the orgasm has short circuited something in him, and Sam wants to grin, maybe say something along the lines of "That good, huh?" except he doesn't get the chance with the way Steve is licking his way into his mouth, and it takes Sam a ridiculous amount of time to realise that Steve is _tasting himself_ and fuck, if Sam wasn't already achingly hard before, that would have done it, no questions.

"Your turn," Steve says, between kisses, skimming his hands down Sam's sides to rest carelessly on his ass, "Tell me what you want."

"Huh," Sam says grinning, grinding a little against Steve's hip at his urging, "I thought you were giving the orders here, sir."

"That's enough out of you." Steve swats him on the ass for that, playfully, but firm enough for Sam to _feel_ it, and Sam hides his reaction in Steve's neck, biting down on a curse as his cock gets harder still. He thinks about getting Steve to continue, to keep going until he can't sit down, until he's sure he'll feel it for days, until he has no choice but to come, untouched, all over Steve's chest, but instead he puts it to one side for now. He wants to show Steve a good first time, and then maybe afterwards (next time) he can get him to return the favour.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Sam teases, breathless, as he shifts again, the head of his cock catching and rubbing again Steve's stomach, and both of them groan this time, Steve's fingers digging into the meat of Sam's ass. 

"Insubordinate," Steve mutters again, against Sam's mouth, and then, "Did you mean what you said earlier?" voice nothing more than a rumble in his chest, "About fucking me?"

"Mm," Sam says, an answer and a hum of pleasure in one, pressing a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth, then to his bottom lip, and then properly as Steve makes a short frustrated noise and brings their lips together. Steve hadn't gone all the way soft after Sam's mouth earlier, and he can feel him firming up all over again, against his thigh. "Oh, you like that idea, huh?" Sam says, even as he reaches down to curl his hand around Steve's renewed erection "Want me to open you up? Get you nice and wet and ready?"

Sam can feel Steve thicken under his fingers, the movement of his hand suddenly slick and easy as pre come wells up uncontrollably to spill over onto Sam's hand. Steve's fingers dig bruisingly into Sam's skin before he reigns himself back in, inch by inch.

"I thought," Steve begins, panting shallowly, tilting his head back into the duvet and squirming underneath Sam, "That it was supposed to be your turn now."

Sam laughs. "I'll get mine, don't you worry. I bet you can get hard again afterwards, anyway." He takes the offering and nips along Steve's jaw, sucks up mark on his throat. "Bet you can probably go three or four times a night. Bet that if I got you off now--" and here Sam twists his wrist, presses his thumb against the head, "--you'd be ready to go by the time I rolled you over onto your hands and knees and pushed my way inside."

"Fuck," Steve says quietly, sounding pained, and he comes again, and Sam does his best not to follow him because Steve looks like a dream right now but if Sam loses it then it's pretty much game over for him. There are some things he just can't compete with.

Of course, it's about then that Sam realises that he doesn't have the supplies to make good on this promise. He's just moved in after all, and it wasn't like he was planning on hooking up, what with the whole superhero thing and the torch the size of Texas he's been carrying for Steve. But fortunately for Steve, Sam's full of ideas.

Steve's gone all pliant after his latest orgasm so it only takes some gentle urging to turn him onto his side, murmuring "Like this," as he slides in close behind him and parts Steve's thighs, guiding his dick between them, sweat and come easing the way (and even with that Sam knows that Steve's thighs are gonna be rubbed raw, red and tender to the touch until the serum washes it away, and just the thought of it lances heat through his body). They both moan quietly, desperately, when Sam smooths his hand down Steve's thigh and says "That's right, tighten up for me, just like that."

"It's not quite what I promised," Sam continues, voice strained, hand resting low on Steve's stomach as though to hold him in place while Sam ruts against him, "But I don't have what I need to do you right, so." His breath leaves him in a rush as he thrusts forward into the clench of Steve's thighs, and it's nothing but heat and friction, the pressure against his dick so sweet after the ache of being hard for so long. He's under no illusions about how long this'll take, the fact alone that it's Steve already enough to bring him to this point, but it's been a while since he's allowed himself to have something like this and he's feeling kinda rusty.

Steve has his hand fisted in the bedsheets, swearing when Sam shifts his hips, his eyes squeezed shut tight. "Guess you'll just have to show me next time," Steve says with a breathless little laugh, as though 'next time' is a forgone conclusion and Sam doesn't even try to suppress the dopey smile on his lips.

He slides his hand up Steve's chest, over the deep pink flush and the heated skin, loving the feel of him, thumbing his nipples as he bites at Steve's jaw, his neck. Steve shudders in his arms and grabs Sam's hand, drawing it back to rub against his nipple more firmly, gasping and moaning faintly at each pass. Faint tremors are running through Steve's body, and Sam presses a kiss to the back of his neck, where his hair is curled with sweat, and thrusts forward again, the head of his dick nudging up against Steve's balls. It's a slick, easy push, but Steve's thighs are tight enough around his dick to fool him, and Sam has no control, barely even drawing his hips back before he's fucking his way back in again. He mouths at the back of Steve's neck, teeth scoring marks there before his tongue eases them away, and rubs his palm over Steve's nipples, first one and then the other, enjoying the way that it makes him shake and pant in Sam's arms, so sensitive everywhere.

"Sam," Steve says, exhaling harshly, his voice raw and-- and Sam notices that Steve is hard again, dick flush against his stomach and leaking like he hadn't just come like five minutes ago, and Sam is almost giddy with the possibilities, to see how far Steve can keep going, coming again and again and again until he can't anymore, just so that Sam can tease him hard one last time. 

"Yeah, I got you," he says, unable to not respond, and Steve bites out, "God, Sam, you feel so-- feel so--" and then, because Steve is a shit stirrer in every situation, says "You gonna, gonna come on my--?" and, well, Sam's just about done. He swears and Steve clamps his thighs together, groaning, and Sam thrusts once, twice, three more time before coming all messy all over Steve's thighs and dick and jesus, supersoldier or not, the sight of that it almost enough to get him going again. Especially when he has his own come to slick the way for his hand as he reaches down and jerks Steve off, hard and fast until he gives it up himself.

"Fuck," Sam says, or at least tries to, as he eases himself away, but the words get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth and all that comes out is a tired mumble into the back of Steve's head. Steve laughs, sounding fresh as a goddamn daisy, and rolls over to _beam_ at Sam, head propped up on an elbow.

Sam's limbs feel heavy, weighed down by pleasure, but he still has enough energy to shove at Steve, rolling his eyes. "Goddamn supersoldiers."

Steve slips an arm around his waist, smiling all innocent like Sam doesn't already know he's an asshole. "Maybe the first thing we need to work on is your stamina."

Sam turns his head as Steve tugs him in close, so that Steve's kiss lands on his cheek instead. "Maybe next time you can take care of yourself."

Steve laughs. "Don't tell me you're throwing in the towel now." He noses his way across Sam's cheek until he finds his mouth for a short, sweet kiss. "Where's your drive, soldier?"

Sam holds out for about a second before he huffs out a laugh, and stretches out on the bed beneath him, hands settling on the dip of Steve's spine. "Okay. Where do you want me, sir?"


End file.
